Sam and the Green Men
by Sasshaia
Summary: For a child, dreams are a reality. They look at things in the world and try to connect it to their dreams, and in this way, their dreams mimic reality. But sometimes, a child dreams so strongly that reality starts to mimic their dreams.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER - TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment.

A/N - Despite what you may think from the summary, this story is NOT a chibi fic. I just want to get that out there right now. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading.

This fic was inspired after a talk I had with my mother. I won't say what the topic was on as it is somewhat personal, but the talk got me thinking and as a result, I came up with the concept for the spiritual story you see before you.

AA/N - So I decided to modify this fic and split it up into a couple chapters. It was a touch too long, and there were several breaks in the story naturally, so it just seemed more appropriate to have it this way.

* * *

I want to tell you a story. Now, you may think this will be some fantastic story about heroes and trials and sadness, but I need to tell you something first: You are absolutely correct, but not in the way you may think. This story is about a boy, my little brother actually, named Sam, and his heroes, the green men. 

I wish I could say that Sam was an average everyday kid who went to school, got decent grades and played with friends, but the truth is I can not tell you that, because Sam was not average. Sam was actually above average. He could calculate any math problem in an instant, retell a story he had just read perfectly, even count over a hundred things in less than a second. He was bright, energetic and gifted. A savant is what they called him. Unfortunately, his intelligence was what gave the first signs, and when he was three years old, a doctor diagnosed him with autism.

It was hard to say the least. My parents tried their best to nurture Sam as he grew older, but they were easily frustrated. Sam would panic at any little change that might occur. If Sesame Street was not on for some reason, he would scream and scream and scream as my mother and father tried desperately for hours to calm him down. I could only watch as I was too young to do anything else, after all, I was only a couple years older than him.

I felt bad for my little brother. It hurt me to see him like this all the time. I wanted to help him, chase away the problems he faced, help him to grow up, nurture him, and protect him. I wanted to be the perfect big brother for him.

But I was a child at the time as well, and children that age do not take things very well. My parents were always doting and fussing over him. He was the center of their world, the center of attention. They had to make sure everything was perfect for him, and in the process, I felt ignored. I both loved and hated Sam right then. I loved him as my little brother, but I hated the fact that he stole Mom and Dad from me.

And so it was that one day I got fed up and pushed Sam, and he fell. He fell down the stairs, and I watched as he tumbled every step of the long staircase down and down until he came to a stop at the bottom, a mangled heap of limbs and a face stricken with pure terror and confusion.

It felt like an eternity, the empty silence after he stopped moving. It was probably only a few seconds, but those few seconds stretched to encompass enough time where I felt just about every emotion that had been given a name: Anger, elation, triumph, all the way to confusion, fear and then guilt. And at guilt, that was when the silence was broken by an ear splitting scream. Sam started screaming, and then my mother started screaming and then my father started yelling. All the while, I stayed at the top of those steps and watched as my parents made Sam the center of their world.

But I was not ignored anymore. Not at all. My father, once he had gotten off the phone with the emergency room, he saw me, he looked at me, he screamed at me. I finally got the attention I so desperately wanted, and oddly enough, I reveled in it for the briefest of moments.

I do not know why it felt so good. This was not what I wanted. I did not want this kind of attention. I wanted normal attention; I wanted doting and happy attention, normal attention that a parent should give to their child. But still, I enjoyed the screaming, because it meant someone was looking at me, someone saw me, someone had me at the center of their world.

I was eight at the time, and Sam was six. After the trip to the emergency room, having discovered that Sam thankfully only suffered from a minor radial fracture, I was sat down and lectured and question and cried to. Only then did it finally sink in to me what I had done. Only then did I finally realize that I had hurt Sam, that I intended to hurt Sam, that I intended to hurt Sam in a way that could have killed him.

I cried. I cried and I wept and I apologized to my parents, to Sam, to God, to anyone who would listen. My mother somehow understood what I was feeling and she comforted me. She made me feel better. My father, he gave me a look that seemed disturbingly lost, like I was some unknown animal that he was not sure whether it was dangerous or not. He looked away from me and left my mother to cradle me and apologize back, but I was not listening to her. My eyes were only locked on the retreating form of my father as he left my room.

I vowed that day that I would never again take my little brother Sam for granted. I vowed that I would help Sam, be with him and educate him the way a big brother should. I knew it would be hard and that I was subjecting myself to a lot of difficult work, but in doing so, I hoped that I would finally get to be what I always wanted: the center of attention. I would be the center of Sam's attention.

Of course, at the time, I had no idea just how much that responsibility would actually be forced upon me. It was about two months after the incident with the stairs that I overheard it. My parents were fighting again, they had been doing that a lot lately, and I was beginning to get worried. I knew it was wrong, but I was too curious for my own good. I sat down at the top of the steps and listened to my parents argue in the next room.

I could not catch most of the words, and I was too scared to venture any closer in order to actually hear them, but among the words I could pick up were both mine and Sam's names. It lasted a long time, and this particular fight was lasting much longer than the usual ones, and I was starting to get scared. My father was screeching, yelling louder than I had ever heard and his speech was oddly slurred. Later, I would learn that he had been drinking. My mom was yelling back, but her words were muffled and incoherent in a different way, as soft hiccups often interrupted her words.

Finally, two words stuck out among the rest as they rang loud throughout the house, filling every inch, nook, cranny and corner with their pronouncement. "I'M DONE!!!" A second later I saw my father quickly stumble out the front door, catching himself slightly on the frame just before slamming the screen shut with a thunderous clang.

I was rooted to my position at the top of the stairs for several minutes. I sat their listening to the soft clicking of a clock on the wall and the muffled sobs coming from where my parents had just been arguing.

I finally worked up the nerve to walk downstairs. Cautiously, I made my way through the suddenly labyrinth-like hallways of our home to come to the kitchen where my mother now sat, her elbows resting on the kitchen table and the palms of her hands digging themselves deeply into her eyes as they held up her limp head. I looked at her now, my mother, my proud mother who was always so strong for me and forgave me for what I did to Sam. She sat there, body shaking as she wracked it with restrained sobs that were breaking through her motherly defenses.

I did what I had known always worked for someone who looked like that. Taking a page out of my mother's book, I confidently walked over to her and hugged her the way she had hugged me not so long ago, and I let her cry into my shoulder. I thought it was odd, and I was scared seeing my mother so upset like this, acting like a child, like something could actually hurt her. My idol was now a broken doll in my arms, and I cried with her, although I did not know at the time why.

After several minutes, her sobs stopped and she pulled away from me. Blowing her nose on a stray towel, she wiped the last remaining tears from her scarlet eyes and looked at me, the seriousness and strength that I always saw in her returned. "Now, you need to listen to me Andrew," she said to me in that gentle yet serious tone she had. "Things are going to change and times are going to get harder. We're going to have to move and Daddy won't be coming with us. I know that things have been hard on you and you feel like you don't get as much of my attention as Sam does, and I'm sorry for that. But now I need to ask you to do a big favor for me. I need you to help me look after Sam. Sam needs a strong big brother, Andrew. Can you be that strong big brother?"

I felt my mouth creep up into a broad and confident smile as I nodded once sharply, telling my mother I could do what she asked. And then I hugged her again, and she cried once more.

- - -

After the divorce was finalized, my mother moved Sam and me out of the nice suburban town house we lived in, leaving my father to live there alone, and into a small apartment on Manhattan Island. It was a drastic change, to say the least; one that Sam fought us all the way through.

He was terrified of the change, of the lack of his father being around and of the small space. Every night he had a massive screaming fit, and for the first month, we had several threats from other tenants saying they would tell the landlord if the noise kept up. My mother frantically apologized to everyone, promising that things would get better and that she only needed more time.

It did little to appease the people, and the landlord did eventually come and talk to us. He was relatively understanding as to our plight, and that is why, he claimed, he was only giving us a warning at that juncture, but if the noise did not improve after another month, then he would have no choice.

I could not bear to hear that, and so I ran off, climbing out my window and up the fire escapes to the roof of our building. I huddled there crying for what seemed to me like hours. It very well may have been hours, I don't recall the exact time frame. All I remember is that when my sobbing had finished, and I had resolved to get up and go back home, that that was the moment I first saw them.

I heard a very faint knock, like a light stomp on concrete just behind the stairwell door that I was hiding behind. I froze in my spot, somewhat scared as to what the noise was. A couple more followed it, and soon voices started joining the chorus. "So what's the game plan tonight, oh fearless?" said a gravelly voice with a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Master Splinter said that he wanted this weeks training run to be about flexibility," said a second voice thick with strength and authority. "So that means we are going to be practicing our flips across the buildings for the next ten blocks, and then we'll get into a game I like to call, 'Who can Squeeze?'"

A third voice chimed in, giving a high-pitched noise of mock awe to the others. "Honestly bro, be a little more original. I mean, come on, 'Who Can Squeeze?' Laaaaaaaame! There has to be a better name for it."

"Not when you see what I have in store for you guys," the second voice replied, his authority now laced with a bit of deviousness.

A fourth voice groaned in response. "You didn't borrow anything from Casey again did you?"

The second voice chuckled evilly to the others. "You'll just have to find that out for yourself when we get there, Donnie. Last one to Twelfth and Laird has to go first." A chorus of soft padding followed the command.

I somehow worked up the nerve to peek around the corner just as I heard the others start padding after the obvious leader. To say they were quick was an understatement. When they had started from only a few feet away from my hiding spot, I peeked around the corner to see that they had already made it to the other side of the building and leapt across. I could barely see them through the darkness of the night and the smoggy air, but what I saw startled me. Retreating from my vision I saw four figures, each with a short but bulky frame that seemed too much of an oval to be natural. What bits of light bounced off of them reflected various tints of green to their skin as well as the variety of colorful bands of cloth that flapped behind their heads.

I sat there for awhile, wondering about who and what these people were, and what they were doing on the rooftops at such a late hour. Of course, late hour for me at the time was ten o'clock since that was my bed time. Still, I remained rooted to the spot for several minutes. Eventually, I dragged myself back down the fire escape and into my room.

After a quick lecture from my mother about how much I scared her, and how I needed to tell her where I was going in the future, I did my nightly ritual and went to bed. If you thought I had trouble sleeping that night, then you would be right. I think I barely closed my eyes for most of the night. There was something about those men that held my imagination in a vice-like grip and refused to let go. They haunted my thoughts, in a good way, as I thought about how mysterious they were, how odd they looked and how quiet they were.

But the one thing that stood out in my mind was something one of them said. He said, "This week's…" Did that mean they did this all the time? Were they going to come back? How come no one else had seen them? Were they dangerous or not? These questions swam through my head for hours, and I finally dozed off after I came to a confident decision that I was going to watch for them again.

That was Saturday night. I waited patiently for the week to pass, although I am fairly certain both my mother and teachers noticed I was more distracted than usual. I kept getting that tedious question of, "Are you alright, Andrew?" With that tone that really says, "I know something is wrong, but I don't think it's serious, so I'll wait for you to tell me about it."

Of course that tone is bogus, because they were asking right there what was wrong, so they were not waiting for me to explain myself to them. Still, I kept those weird men to myself. They were my little secret that made me special. Besides, who would believe an eight year old kid that green men were wandering around on the roofs of New York City?

So I remained quiet of my discovery and waited for the week to go by. I tried my best to hide my anxiousness. I was attentive to the lectures, I did my homework and I helped my mother with Sam. Perhaps, looking back, I was overly cautious, and that must have been what made things suspicious.

Eventually, Saturday came around again. After a difficult fuss dealing with my brother getting put to bed, I told my mother I would be in my room doing my weekend homework. I suggested to her that my being in the room with Sam might help calm him down since we had to share a room in the small apartment anyway.

Eventually, and reluctantly, my mother agreed to it, and I cautiously and silently went into my room, opened the window and snuck out to the roof, all without waking my brother, who, for once, was sleeping soundly.

Climbing the fire escape, I once again found myself on that dirty tar-stricken roof. A pungent stench of gravel dust and smog filled my nostrils. I quickly searched the area for an advantageous hiding spot. In time, I found the perfect place in a nearly completely boarded up alcove underneath a run down and useless water tower. The boards were crudely nailed in place and were put there most likely to give the unused structure a little bit more support.

I crawled through the open spaces between boards and peeked out of the narrow slits. I could not have asked for a better spot. I could see the entirety of the roof, from the long phone lines that stretched from building to building, to the numerous aluminum vents that scattered the area, allowing the cooler autumn air to blow free from its collection in the apartment complex.

And there I stood in the somewhat frigid night air, watching and waiting for the green men to return. I was early, I knew that, but I was determined to make sure these men were real and not just my imagination. I knew they were real and that they would come, and I just had to find out _what_ they were.

It did not even cross my mind the fact that they could be dangerous as I sat there shivering. I waited for a long time, biting my lip against the cold. I was actually about to give up and go back inside when I heard them, the soft thud that announced their arrival on my building echoed into my secret hideaway. I quickly righted myself, shifting around so I was kneeling, and cautiously peered through the gaps in the wood.

The moon was out that night, and I barely stifled a gasp of shock at what I saw. Four….things stood in a small circle. The moon lit up their green skin and the dark brown of their checkered…shells? They wore belts and padding on their joints like they were about to go skateboarding. They all wore narrow bands of cloth over their eyes with varying colors: one blue, one red, one orange and one purple. But what my eyes locked onto, the one detail that stood out over all the others, were the weapons. Each and every one of them carried some sort of dangerous close range weapon. I recognized the swords and staff that the blue and purple one respectively carried, but the others were foreign to me.

"Alright, we're just going to do some simple sparring matches today," the one in blue suggested. He was the one with that strong and authoritative voice I recognized.

"Hehe, alright, just what I was hoping for." The one in red started beating his fist into his opposite hand. He had the gruff accent and almost seemed to be shaking with excitement for the grudge match they were about to have.

"But this is no ordinary sparring match," the blue one interrupted. "I want us all to give everything we have. I want full power, no pulling punches. Fight like you mean it this time."

"Leo, the concept of going all out could result in our getting serious injuries that could have potentially crippling effects on our future effectiveness in actual combat situations." I blinked as the purple one spoke. I only caught about every other word he said back then.

"Yeah, Leo. I can't possibly let poor Shooty and Steery get seriously injured," The orange one said, holding up and twitching his thumbs to signify that those were what he had given the names to. "If they die, my Metroid Prime skills shoot straight down the drain. And not just the bathroom sink drain. We're talking the mucho drain like those Whirlpools found in the oceans."

"Technically, Mikey," the purple one chimed in. "Whirlpools don't actually drain any water, but a current's force does twist around the water so that a downward pull is created where the water is then dispersed-."

"Yeah, whatever brainiac. If yer that worried, then get yer bo out and block everythin'." The red one had already pulled out his weird fork-like weapons and seemed even more pumped for the fight.

Soon, they were all duking it out. They really went at it, fighting each other, clashing weapons together. It was amazing to watch. It was like something out of those Kung Fu movies, except real and right here in front of me. Blood was drawn, real blood from a real cut. I was almost sick by the sight of it.

The fight did not last for long. After probably a half hour of brawling, they were all worn out, bruised and cut in various places. Also, the one in purple had called it on account of noticing the red one's knee being the size of a grapefruit. It was obviously sprained, and the purple one quickly ushered them all back to what was most likely their home, leaving me alone on the roof again.

I got up, went down the fire escape and climbed back into my room. "Where did Andrew go?"

The voice startled me, and I quickly spun around to stare at Sam sitting up in bed, a worried look on his face. I quickly shook my head, putting on a genial smile. "I went up to the roof to watch something," I told him honestly. "But don't tell Mom, okay?"

"Andrew supposed to be in bed at ten o'clock. Ten o'clock Andrew's bedtime. Ten o'clock."

I looked over at the clock by my bed. The numbers read 10:03. I shook my head. He always did this, made any sort of a fuss if I was late to bed. It was one of the things the doctor had mentioned. If there was any sort of break in a routine for Sam it could upset him easily.

But if that was the case, then I would just have to change the routine. "Listen Sam, I have a new bedtime on Saturdays. Now, on Saturday, I get to watch something on the roof, and then I come to bed."

"Special show on Saturday," Sam nodded out with wide eyes. "Does Sam get to watch the special special show on Saturdays?"

I stared. I had not even thought about Sam when watching those green men on the roof, but now that I thought about it, it may have been something he would like to see. Now, if I were older, I would not have thought that, but I was eight at the time, so rather than deny it, I simply nodded and said, "Sure Sam, I'll show you the show next week, okay?"

"Okay," Sam said before falling back under his covers and going back to sleep. I moved around the room, getting dressed for bed as quietly as possible before slipping into my own bed. I had no idea then just how important those men would be in both my life and in Sam's life.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Again, for those who have read this fic. There is nothing new added, I just split the story up into a couple chapters since it seemed to flow better in this format.

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The next week I brought Sam up to the roof with me. I gave him very specific instructions on exactly how quiet he needed to be. He listened intently as I sat him down in that same alcove I had used the previous week, nodding after every rule I made up as he watched out of the slits for the show I told him was about to start. 

I turned my own attention to the roof, keeping one eye on Sam just to make sure he did not start panicking for some reason. Luckily, he remained quiet and kept his attention focused outside, and he remained focused when the Green Men arrived.

I no longer remember what they did that night, the first night I showed them to Sam. I was too busy watching my brother, watching his fascinated eyes drink in every detail of the action he saw. It was amazing to watch, and he seemed at peace sitting there, watching the four Green Men leap and flip around. He smiled at them, and I know that my face must have been similar to his as I felt a calming weight be removed as I realized that Sam was going to be alright. Eventually, the four men wandered off, and I guided Sam back down to our room where we both slept soundly and comfortably.

Over the next few days, both my mother and I started noticing a sudden change in Sam. He was less anxious and he did not have any screaming panic attacks, at least not as many. I began to recognize his behavior as that of how he acted when we were at our old home when Dad was with us. He had finally gotten used to living in this new place, much to the great relief of our mother and the other residents. As it was, we were not kicked out of the apartment, and our lease was guaranteed for as long as we needed it.

The Saturday commute to the roof with Sam and I soon became a regular routine we would do every week. We went up there and watched whatever it was the Green Men did, and every night it changed as they played various games, sometimes they sparred, and sometimes they just ran right by us, but each time we saw them, Sam found relief and serenity that kept him calm.

My mother, of course, soon discovered what we were doing those Saturday nights up on the roof. She uncovered our secret alcove after she found several of her couch pillows missing, discovering them in a nice pile on the roof where Sam and I had brought them to sit on while we watched the Green Men. I told her we go up there to talk and that it was what helped calm Sam down. Naturally, my mother was a bit skeptical, but she believed me when I said that it helped Sam's demeanor, and once she scouted the roof out a bit herself to make sure it was safe, she gave us her approval to continue with our weekly ritual.

Soon Sam started coming to me every Saturday at nine-thirty, telling me it was time to go and see the Green Men. Every time I laughed and nodded and followed him up to the roof. Even when it was raining or snowing, Sam would come to me and ask me to take him up there. Usually those times either I or my mother had to stop us from going up there, which of course upset Sam, but the tantrums were never as bad as they were when we first moved in to the apartment complex.

He talked to me about them sometimes when we were both in bed. He said he dreamed about them. He claimed he dreamed about them and the Gray Man with them and how they would fight an army of Dark Men with white eyes. He said the Green Men were the good guys, that they were protecting people. I laughed and told him they were, while in my own head I could only chuckle at how amazing my brother's imagination was.

I honestly never gave my brother's dreams much thought, despite the fact that he continued to tell me he was having them. Every time I just shrugged and agreed with him that the Green Men were protecting people. I did this for eight years. Eight long years we kept up the routine. We would watch the Green Men and Sam would tell me all about the new dream he had of them.

Of course, good things never last as the old saying goes, and it was at the end of those eight years, when I was sixteen and Sam was fourteen, that everything changed.

I came home from school as any other day one Friday afternoon, relieved that the weekend was coming up. Our mom was not home yet since she usually ended up working late Friday nights and our neighbor was looking after Sam. Just one floor down from us, Mrs. Abbot, she was a retired elderly woman and grandmother of several kids. She had been kind enough to look after Sam for us while my mother worked and I went to school for a small monthly fee. She originally insisted on doing it for the sake of being kind, but my mother insisted on giving her some recompense for her troubles.

When I got home from school, I was allowed to join Sam in Mrs. Abbot's apartment, but by the time I was in high school, my mother and I both agreed it would be best if I just took Sam back home and watched him myself whenever I got home. And so that was what I did that day. I went downstairs, picked Sam up, thanking Mrs. Abbot once again, and took him back upstairs to our apartment.

Time passed as I watched TV and Sam played on the computer some puzzle games we had bought for him. I did not even recognize something as being wrong until Sam had come up to me and spoken. "It's seven o'clock Andrew. Andrew, it's seven o'clock." I jumped at the sudden proclamation as I looked over at Sam. He had turned away from the computer screen to look at a spot on the couch next to me, a strangely anxious look in his eyes. "Andrew, it's 7:01. It's 7:01 Andrew."

I nodded confused to Sam. I had no idea what seven o'clock meant to him. As far as I knew at the time, he usually continued playing the puzzle games on the computer for at least another half an hour. "Yes it is Sam," I reassured him. "Is there something wrong?"

"Mom. Latest time Mom home 6:29 Andrew. It's 7:02 Andrew. Mom is thirty-three minutes late Andrew. It's 7:02 Andrew. Why is Mom late Andrew?" Sam began to rock back and forth in his chair, his eyes starting to look frantic. "Mom's late Andrew. Why is mom late Andrew? Why is mom late Andrew? Why is mom late Andrew?" He kept repeating that question, making his tone even more frantic, and it was starting to scare me. One, because it sounded like another tantrum brewing, and two, because he was absolutely right. Our mother usually got home around six o'clock. She was only so late that one time because of traffic. Why she was more than an hour late this time had me worried.

I quickly gathered Sam together with me and guided him back downstairs to Mrs. Abbot's apartment. After a quick apology for asking her to watch him, I ran back upstairs and called my mother's work. They told me she had gone home at five thirty like she always did. I could only hang up the phone, getting even more worried.

I started pacing the area of our small apartment, trying to think of what to do. I was interrupted from my musings rather suddenly as the phone rang. With a start, I rushed to the table and fumbled with getting the receiver to my ear. "Hello?" I asked.

"Hello, is this the Wilson residence?" asked the voice over the ear piece.

I nodded before responding with a choked up, "Yes."

"This is the St. Joseph Hospital calling. I need to tell you there's been an accident-."

At that point, I dropped the receiver and rushed back downstairs. "Good heavens Andrew, what's the matter?" Mrs. Abbot asked me after opening the door to my frantic pounding.

I wiped away the building tears and looked at her. "I need you to look after Sam for me Mrs. Abbot. Just for a little while."

"Andrew, what happened?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, but the hospital just called. I'm going to catch a cab down there now."

Mrs. Abbot nodded and bade me good luck. "I'll be praying for you."

I nodded one last time before rushing out the door. Down on the busy New York street, I frantically waved down any taxi cab I could find, ending up with completely futile efforts for the longest time. Finally, I hailed one and ordered him to the St. Joseph Hospital as fast as he could go.

After an agonizingly long twenty minute car ride, we arrived, and I rushed out, dropping much more money in the man's lap than was needed. Upon entering, and forcefully introducing myself and begging for my mother, I was ushered upstairs to my mother's room. There she lay, bandaged all along her head and down her left side. An IV needle was in her right arm, and her face was bruised and swollen.

I turned to the doctor who was standing there adjusting some dials on a heart monitor next to my mother's bed. He looked up from his work and regarded me with a serious expression, but a welcome and comforting one. "Are you the family?" he asked me.

I could only nod in response as I stood motionless in the doorway, my eyes fixated on the shallow breaths the prone figure on the bed was taking. The gentle rise and fall of my mother's chest continued steadily and slowly. Too slow. There was no way a person could breathe that slowly and still be alive.

It took me several moments to register that the doctor was addressing me, and I tore my eyes from her to listen. "-said the man ran a red light. She has a broken collar bone, several lacerations from broken glass as well as a fractured skull, and now she has lapsed into a coma. We have set everything in its place, but we fear she may have taken some brain damage from the impact. We don't know when she'll wake up."

I stared at this person who claimed he was a doctor. That was a fact I was quickly starting to doubt. Doctors were supposed to be healers, but he was not healing my mother. He was telling me he was done helping her and that I was supposed to just wait and hope my mother pulled herself out of it. I started getting angry. I started screaming at the guy. I wanted to hit something. In fact, I probably DID hit something, I do not remember much after hearing the condition my mother was in.

Somehow, I wound up home again. I think Mrs. Abbot came and picked me up after getting dragged out of the hospital by the security. I was sitting on the couch in our apartment as Sam played his puzzle games some more. I watched him play the game. He seemed oblivious to the fact that something was wrong, yet I knew that was not true. In fact, he had known something was wrong before I had. I only shook my head and continued to sit quietly for the rest of the night until we both had to get to bed.

I did not sleep at all that night.

In the morning, Mrs. Abbot drove us both back to visit my mother in the hospital. We stayed there from morning until dusk watching over her, but we were thoroughly disappointed that night when we went home and nothing had changed. Our mother was still in a coma, and Sam and I were still stuck alone at home.

In everything that had happened, I had forgotten about an important detail that night, until Sam came up to me and started poking me. "Andrew, it's 9:30. It's 9:30 Andrew. Green Men on the roof, Andrew. Green Men."

I sighed and shook my head. "Not tonight Sam, please?" I begged him, but Sam's pokes became more incessant.

"9:30 Andrew. Andrew, it's 9:30. The Green Men, Andrew. The Green Men will help us Andrew." He started to sound frantic, and I eventually gave in as I found it somewhat curious that Sam would say they would help us. So I followed him up to the roof and sat down with him once again under that old water tower and waited.

And waited.

Ten o'clock came and went and eventually so did eleven o'clock. I looked over at Sam. He was a motionless statue as his eyes locked on the vacant rooftop. I sighed after looking at my watch for the last time. "Come on Sam, they aren't coming tonight."

"But the Gray Man said they'd help," Sam whined. "He promise. He promise they help mom. He promise they help."

"Sam, they don't know us. They can't help us," I tried to explain to my distraught brother.

He started moaning, and I knew that I had the start of a tantrum on my hands. It was difficult, but I was able to get him back inside before the tantrum went into full bloom. I laid him down in bed and went to sleep myself, thinking of the Green Men and the Gray Man that Sam always dreamed of. I prayed in my sleep that night. I prayed that Sam was right and that someone, anyone, would help us, help our mother. I wanted to believe that this mythical wise man that Sam dreamed of would miraculously heal my mother

But sadly, no such luck came. The days past and the first week went by. Sam dragged me up to that roof again, but the Green Men still did not show up and offer us answers. Another week passed and the same thing happened. After the fourth time on that roof and almost a month of watching my mother lie in bed, unmoving and looking practically dead, I had had it. When Sam refused to move, I gave up. I kicked out at the rotting old boards and splintered them instantly. I tore angrily at the others, ripping them down, tearing piece after fragile piece into tiny bits as Sam sat there and watched me, eyes wide with concern and terror.

"Is this all you care about Sam?" I screamed at him. "Is this it? You don't even know that Mom is hurt, do you? All you care about is your god damn Green Men. Well they aren't coming back Sam. They're probably dead and gone, just like mom will be too soon." I felt hot tears stream down my face as I stared at Sam. He continued to sit under that water tower, clutching his knees and rocking back and forth. He let out a churning moan as he rocked, a sign of a brewing tantrum, and his eyes remained ever locked on the expanse of the roof behind me.

I threw my arms up in the air in exasperation and stalked off, leaving Sam on the roof alone. It was a poor thing to do, but I did not care at that point. I was fed up with him, and with the Green Men. What good were they when they could not even bother to show up at the time that we needed them most? Why, if they helped people the way Sam said they helped people, could they not help us? Were we that terrible of people? I could not believe that, but those were the thoughts that swam through my head that night as I drifted off to sleep, barely noticing the slide of the window opening as Sam came in and went to bed too.

That night, I dreamt. I dreamt I was back home, my old home, and Mom and Dad and Sam were all sitting together in the living room. They were smiling and talking. Sam looked normal, and he was looking at us, he was looking at Mom and Dad. Sam never made eye contact with anyone, and he wasn't even rocking. He looked like any other kid.

"This is what you always wanted, isn't it?"

I spun around to see who had spoken. There, standing in front of me, stood a weird little man. He was probably barely taller than four and a half feet tall, but he seemed shorter since he stood slightly hunched, leaning on a short walking stick. His skin looked like it was dark ashen gray, although the features seemed oddly distorted, and all I could make out clearly were his piercing brown eyes situated in a lump of an oddly elongated face.

"Who….who are you?" I stammered.

The man looked past me to the rest of my family who had now stopped talking and were watching me and the weird man. They had oddly encouraging smiles on their faces, like they were patiently waiting for something joyous to happen. I turned back to the man whose eyes were now boring into me with a look of utter intensity. It disturbed me to see those eyes in that odd lump of gray-whatever.

Gray?

Realization struck me in an instant. "You're the Gray Man that Sam told me about?"

The figure nodded and looked past me once again to lay his eyes on Sam. I turned and regarded my brother as well. He was sitting quietly on the floor in the middle of the living room, watching us with those interested eyes and youthful smile. He looked so happy and peaceful there. But it was not Sam, and it probably never would be.

"Your brother is quite special, you know this?" the figure asked me.

I merely nodded in response and I heard the Gray Man sigh. "No, I do not think you DO know this," he told me. I turned to him and he looked at me again. "He came to me and my sons, the ones you both call the Green Men. He came to us in spirit. I have never met one with such a strong will of the spirit. He told us he thanked us for helping everyone and for letting you both watch my sons train. He told my sons that they were appreciated for what they did in the streets, stopping the crime, protecting people. He helped them. He lifted their spirits and their self-esteem, convinced them to continue what they did.

"And in exchange, I promised him that I would always look over his family. That I would help you in your time of need. I promised him that I would guide you all and protect you all whenever you needed it most."

I narrowed my eyes at this man who claimed to know so much. "Well you haven't been doing a very good job keeping your promise," I accused. "My mom is in the hospital. Why didn't you protect her? Why didn't you help her if you said you were going to watch over us?" I sank to my knees as the tears started flowing from me. "I want my mom back. Sam needs her. I need her. I can't take care of Sam by myself."

I think I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, although it was a dream, and I could barely tell what I was feeling, if anything. Despite that, I looked into the man's eyes. They were soft and understanding. "The pain you are feeling is only natural," he told me. "The grief you feel, I have felt it on more than one occasion. I feared for my sons many times much the same way you now fear for your mother.

"But as you said, I did promise your brother that I would look out for you, and that is what I am here today to do." I turned my attention to the man. It seemed odd, but he seemed to become more defined, more solid, and I saw the gray blobs of formless flesh shift and solidify into a fuzzy wiry frame. The man looked odd, to say the least, like some oversized, bipedal terrier, but his soft and kind brown eyes kept me relaxed and tranquil. "I have a favor to ask of you."

I blinked dumbly as I stared at the man whose eyes fell back to my family. I turned and stared amazed as I now saw the four Green Men intermixed with Sam and my parents, all talking like long lost friends just newly reunited. "I want you and your brother to continue to watch over my sons," the Gray Man said. "Continue to be there for them on that roof for as long as you can. Will you promise me this?"

I stood up, my eyes still gazing at the group in the living room, all joking, smiling, laughing, all caring for one another. They were all a family, close and protective of one another and I suddenly felt like a part of them. That all nine of us, the seven in the living room, the Gray Man and myself, it truly felt like we were all together in that dream, connected by fate somehow.

I nodded to the man, answering his request. "I promise." And then everything faded.

My eyes snapped open as a muffled rattling echoed through my head. It took me a minute to register the noise as our phone ringing in the hallway. I extricated myself from the tangled mess of blankets atop me, and left my room to go answer the phone. I picked it up and gave a dreary, "Hello?" to the caller.

A soft and whispery voice came through my end. "Andrew?" it said.

I recognized it immediately. "MOM!?"

- - -

We brought her home on Wednesday, although she was still reduced to sitting around for most of the day. Mrs. Abbot helped us get around a lot. We were lucky in that the insurance our mom earned from her work covered her accident, so we were not going into debt from the medical expenses. I wound up taking care of Sam mostly by myself, but I was okay with that, because mom was home, and we were a family again.

The days went by happily and normally for all of us. All I was aware of for the longest time was making sure my mother was comfortable.

And then Saturday came around again, that infamous day that used to hold so much wonder for me and Sam. I had all but forgotten about the routine until Sam came up to me and started talking about it. "The Green Men, Andrew. Gotta see the Green Men Andrew. Yeah, the Green Men."

I sighed and set down my pen. I had been doing my homework using only the light from a desk lamp and so, looking over my shoulder, everything was dark and shadowy. For the briefest of seconds, it looked like there was a short gray shadow standing behind Sam, but it faded after I rubbed the dots out of my eyes. "Listen Sam, they aren't coming back," I tried to explain. "It's been a month and no sign. Something probably happened to them."

But my insistent little brother was not deterred. "Gotta see the Green Men, Andrew," Sam said staring at a spot on the wall. "Andrew promised to watch the Green Men. Promised to watch, yeah."

I shook my head and gave up. Routine was routine, and Sam needed things to stay the way they were, so I left my homework for later and crawled out our bedroom window once again. I led the way up the familiar fire escape, stepping up to the final platform to stare despondently at the ladder. I turned back to Sam to see his expectant eyes staring at the same ladder, and all I could do was sigh as I turned back and started climbing. Step over step, I reached the top and peeked over the edge of the building.

I froze. There, sitting on the opposite edge of the roof, dangling his feet off the high rise, sat one of the Green Men. His orange bandana was flapping along his back as he stared up at the barely visible stars, most of which were concealed by the horrendous light pollution. I continued up the ladder and over the edge, not once taking my eyes off of him.

The silence was interrupted with Sam struggling, as usual, to make it over the edge. The Green Man jumped up at the noise and spun around to face us, but his expression relaxed the moment he saw us. "Oh, it's you two," he said rather calmly. "Heh, so this is the time you guys get up here."

I half turned to help Sam up and over, still keeping one eye on the Green Man. Now that he had seen us, I started to wonder whether he was dangerous or not. But once Sam was over the edge and on a level surface, he rushed over to the Green Man before I could stop him. "You 'kay?" Sam asked him, his head cocked and staring just over his shoulder.

The man stiffened for a second and took on a defensive demeanor. "Of course I'm alright, why would you ask that dude?"

"You sad."

"Nah! I ain't sad. I'm a rock. There ain't nothing that can bring me down."

"You sad."

"Listen kid, I'm not sad, now why would you say that, and why can't you look at me dude?" The Green Man turned his attention to where I stood next to the ladder. "Hey, is he okay in the head?"

A small spark of irritation flared through me, but it vanished right away. The man did not know, so there was no use getting angry at him over it. I simply sighed, and as I stepped up behind Sam, I told him, "No, he's not. He has autism."

The Green Man seemed to flush darkly, his already pale green skin going a slightly darker shade. "Oh geez, I'm so so sorry man. I just…uh…"

I held up my hand to silence him. "It's okay, you didn't know," I told him honestly. "And I'm sorry about Sam here. He just…He's very fond of you and…the others."

The Green Man nodded, smirking. "Well, he's got a lot to be fond of, I mean just look at these guns here." The man flexed his arms into several different body builder poses, all of which I only rolled my eyes to.

"You sad."

The man stopped at Sam's words, looking somewhat annoyed, so I quickly changed the subject. "So how long have you guys known we were watching you?"

The man shrugged. "Several years now, I think. My brother Raph spotted one of you watching us on one of our runs. Thank you, by the way, because our bro Leo got us to play this weird game of 'Who can Squeeze?,' and your distracting him made Raph come in last, so he had to go first." He started laughing and barely managed to choke out the next words. "It was hilarious. Leo had 'borrowed' a Thigh Master from our friend April and strengthened the resistance. Watching Raph try to squeeze that thing with his thighs and not expecting it to be so tight was one of the best shows I have ever seen."

I started chuckling with him while I mused on what he said. So it seemed as though they knew from the start that we were watching them, yet they let us do it. It warmed my heart to know that, in some way, these men trusted us somehow. I do not know why they did, and I could not bring myself to ask the man before me why he did. It was something I preferred to leave a mystery.

"You sad."

Both the Green Man and I sighed audibly. I looked over at Sam, whose gaze was still transfixed just over the man's shoulder, focusing in on some miniscule point in space. "Sam, why do you think he's sad?" I asked him.

"Because the Gray Man's gone," he replied.

I blinked for a second and then turned back to the Green Man to see if this meant anything to him. He was staring at the ground in front of his feet. His arms had gone limp at his sides, but the muscles in his body were taught and tense. His eyes started to sparkle with tears that were being fought back as his shoulders trembled with stifled sobs.

Then he surprised me. The Green Man fell to his knees and sobbed. His face was buried in his hands as he cried, letting out hoards of emotions that must have been building up in him for ages.

Not knowing what else to do, I bent down and patted him on his dark brown shell and waited for his sobs to cease. When they had, I finally asked him, "Was there a Gray Man?"

The Green Man nodded. "Yeah….there was. He was my father."

"What happened to him?"

"He got sick about a month ago, and he had been getting steadily worse as time went on. And then, a few days ago, he passed away in his sleep."

I stiffened at his description of the time frame. It fit too perfectly, but I knew it could not really be anything more than a coincidence. The logical part in my brain told me so, but the logical part was losing out, and I had to confirm my suspicions. "Can…Can you tell me what day that was? When you found him?"

The man wiped his nose on his hand and nodded. "It was just about a week ago. We found him Sunday morning."

I stood there and stared at the man in front of me. I did not know what to make of this. It all fit together, like fate's web had spun this intricate little pattern for us and us especially, and Sam had known the whole thing. I did not know what else to say, so I just stood there and watched the Green Man wipe away the last remnants of his sorrow.

All three of us were quiet and just gathered in the warmth of each other's company for the longest time. We were interrupted by a sudden frantic beeping. The Green Man glanced down at his belt and smiled. "My brothers," he explained. "They're probably wondering where I am. I'd better get home." He stood and adjusted his headband which he had taken off so he could dry his eyes. "So will I see you guys next week then?"

I smiled at him and nodded. "We'll be there. Both of us."

"Great! I'll look forward to it. Better clean up your clubhouse though." He gestured to the splintered piles of wood I had destroyed the previous week. I flushed rather sheepishly, which only served to make the Green Man burst into hysterics just before he leapt off the building as he always did.

I turned my attention back to Sam who was staring intently at the roof, his feet shuffling around, pushing bits of dust into small shapes in front of him. I smiled at him, something, I realized, I had not done in a long time. "Come on Sam, we're going home."

Sam looked up from his work to stare at the old structure that we had hidden in for almost eight years now. His eyes looked thoughtful, and he looked the most normal at that time than I had ever seen. I saw remorse, sadness, confusion, emotions that he usually displayed by screaming. I saw him express those with just his eyes like anyone walking down the street would. "The Gray Man saved Mom, Andrew," he told me. "That's why he's gone."

I nodded to him. "Yes Sam. I think that's what happened too."


	3. Epilogue

A/N - And now this is just the short little epilogue for the story. Again, nothing new added from the original post. Thanks for reading everyone.

* * *

I kept my promise to the Gray Man, for as long as I could at least. Sam and I continued to watch them from a newly rebuilt fort I put together that week after talking with the Green Man. It was new and better wood with not quite as narrow slits to view from so as to give us a better view. I also cleaned up the area around it as well, expanded the fort so it was more easily accessed, and I even gave it an actual crude door.

Every week Sam and I went up there until the year I graduated from high school. Even after that, I was accepted to NYU and was able to stay relatively close to home, and as often as I could, I would come back on the weekends to sit up there and watch the Green Men with Sam.

But life goes on, for all of us, and I eventually found a girl, fell in love, and ended up moving to Chicago, her home town, to live with her. My mother told me that Sam continued to go up to the roof without me every week. She even let him take up late night snacks and that she would have to clean up the fort after him the next day.

I was twenty-two at the time I moved away. I always missed those weeks and constantly felt guilty about leaving. I still do feel upset at myself for that even now, especially after that final day.

It was seven years later, I was twenty-nine, Sam was twenty-seven, that I got the call.

Sam died.

A sudden aneurism left him unconscious and in the hospital for several days before his body finally gave out. It was a sudden shock to everyone, including my wife and kids. We made the arrangements quickly and took an emergency flight to New York.

We sat together quietly during the funeral, listened to the priest give his speech, listened to everyone's goodbyes. I barely listened to any of it. None of it mattered really. I had lost a brother and that was the only thing I saw that day.

Towards the end, when it was my family and I left to stare at that rectangular patch of grass that seemed to be raised higher than the surroundings, my mother turned to me, staring at me through a black lace veil with eyes that seemed overly dry of its recent tears. She told me then something she kept secret for so many years. "I saw something that day I woke up in the hospital," she said. "I saw a man. A short elderly man. He was gray and hard to see, but his eyes were the clearest thing in that hospital. He looked at me from over the bed and told me, 'Your sons need you. Don't ever leave them.'"

I stared at her for several minutes as she stared at the headstone. She finally looked at me and smiled. "Let's go home. Alex looks pretty worn out."

I turned to see my wife holding my two year old in her arms, his head resting lazily on her shoulder and his eyes lightly closed. She was right, we had been there for a long time, but something was tugging at me to stay, so I looked back to my mother and said, "Can you take Emily and them home? I…want to stay for a little longer."

My mother nodded. "Alright, but don't be too long, okay?"

I assured her I would be home soon, and after quick hugs to all, I watched them walk down the path and back to the cars and drive off. With them gone, I knew all I had to do was wait, and so I faced the marble headstone again and did just that.

I did not have to wait long. Soon, three shadows crept along the ground from behind me. I turned to face who I knew would be there. Three of the Green Men stood there, regarding me with various expressions. The purple one leaned on his staff and gave me with a sympathetic smile. The one in blue gave me a serious look, although hints of sorrow seemed laced behind his irises. The one in red did not look at me, but rather at Sam's tombstone. His eyes were hard and serious, and I could have sworn that he was thinking of digging Sam up and punching him for dying.

I looked around them, searching, but I could not see him. "Where's the one in orange?" I asked.

"At home, resting," the purple one explained. "He wanted to come, but he needed to recover."

I nodded thoughtfully to them all. "Alright. Thank you all for coming at least."

The purple one smiled at me. "Don't mention it. Mikey would have had our heads if we didn't come."

The one in red harrumphed and turned away from us. It ticked me off, admittedly, but I forced that away. To him, we were most likely strangers, so he probably did not see the reason for coming, and I could not fault him for thinking like that.

"Our father, Master Splinter, we told him about you after we spotted you watching us." I glanced at the one in blue who had spoken. "He was concerned at first, but after a couple days, he seemed interested in you, both of you." He walked over and knelt in front of Sam's headstone. "He talked about how he was able to communicate with your brother spiritually and that's how he learned about the two of you. I like to think Sensei helped him at least in some way. Quite honestly, I believe they helped each other out to some degree."

I nodded to him, feeling the hot wetness of fresh tears spill down my cheeks. "Thank you," I stuttered. "I really needed to hear that."

"Hey dude," the red one said. "What did you tell Mikey on the roof that day? The time after our pop died?"

I stared at him for a bit. "Why?" I asked.

The Green Man shrugged. "Jus' curious. He came home talkin' about how great you two were. How it was amazing just how great of people you and yer bro were. I just…I wanted ta say sorry…fer yer loss." The man looked down and his eyes suddenly went distant and remorseful. I saw his body shake slightly as he tried to restrain himself from crying. "I can't imagine losin' a brother."

The one in blue stood up from his position on the ground and took his brother by the arm. "Come on, Raph, let's go." With that, he guided him away and disappeared behind a small mausoleum.

That left me and the one in purple who was still leaning on his staff. He seemed slightly haggard and almost old somehow, but I doubted he was much older than I was. "Listen," he said. "I'm sorry about Raph."

I shook my head. "There's no need to apologize, really."

The purple one nodded and sat down on the dewy grass to examine the carving in the marble edifice. "The truth is, the reason Mikey, or the orange one as you called him, isn't here is because we almost lost him recently. Raph was distraught about it and the idea of someone losing their brother is particularly hard on him right now. He and Mikey are really close, you see."

I stared at him for a moment as I felt the wheels turning in my head. It was like I could hear and feel my brain questioning and then solving all these connections in an instant. "What…what happened to him? To the Ora-to Mikey?" I asked.

The man picked up a stray autumn leaf from the ground and twirled it by the stem between his stubby fingers. "He caught pneumonia a little while ago, and we were afraid he wouldn't make it. We don't have much in the way of antibiotics, so we had to let him try and get over it himself. He took a turn for the worse, and we all got a little paranoid then. We didn't think he would make it quite honestly.

"And then, a couple days ago, he woke up and his fever had broken and he started to recover. He was spouting nonsense about how Sam helped him and guided him back. I thought he was just delusional from the fever, but then yesterday he started looking through the newspaper and found Sam's obituary, and that's how we got here today."

My mind was a blank haze. I stared off into space as realization struck me and the tears began to flow anew. No sobs came from me, just the steady stream that stained my face. I stepped over the purple one and rested my hand on the polished stone work. Running my fingers along the smooth curved edges, I wondered if he always planned it. I wondered if Sam had always thought to do this after that day on the roof, talking with Mikey.

"I'm sorry," the purple one said suddenly and I turned to him. "Mike tends to have these weird fantasies. He tends to get a little crazy at times and doesn't think things through. Eventually, he starts mistaking what's reality and what are just his daydreams."

I smiled and shook my head. "No," I told him. "Those weren't fantasies. I'm fairly certain Sam was there for him."

The man blinked at me. "Why would Sam have been there to help Mikey spiritually?"

I shook my head and chuckled and looked up to the passing clouds. For the briefest of seconds, I would have sworn I saw them together in those clouds, Sam and the Gray Man. They looked happy and peaceful as they looked down on us from the heavens up there, and I could not help but smile at the tranquil feeling I got from their faces.

"Yes, Sam was there," I told the Green Man. "He had to be. He had to return the favor."


End file.
